


A Little Rain Never Hurt Anyone

by mandysimo13



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Grumpy John, M/M, Sleepy Sherlock, Tumblr Prompt, john falls, sherlock comes tumbling after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandysimo13/pseuds/mandysimo13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: You walk so fucking slow so I tried walking on the grass to overtake your snail ass but my foot caught on a rock and your long fancy coat was the only thing I could grab before I completely lost my dignity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Rain Never Hurt Anyone

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from the blog dailyau

Sherlock usually moved with all the speediness and purpose of a train; unstoppable, single-mindedly and, above everything else, quickly. He would stride his unbelievably long legs across rooms as he paced and thought, traverse obstacles with lean grace, break out into a run when a suspect fled in an attempt to escape him. He was by no means idle or slow. 

Which is why John was growing increasingly irritated by the pace Sherlock had set in front of him. 

Granted their case had taken ten days to wrap up; three to put the evidence together and name the perpetrator, seven to finally catch him. Sherlock had barely eaten or slept, as per usual, and by the time their final chase ended with John and Sherlock tackling their man in the grass in St. James Park Sherlock was knackered. Together, the two deposited their suspect into the waiting arms of the Yarders and started their walk towards the street to hail a cab. Sherlock tapped away on his phone, feet sleepily shuffling along. Shuffling slowly. Impossibly slowly. 

Where a lack of sleep made Sherlock pliant and quiet it made John short of temper and grumpy. He never really wanted to snap at Sherlock, even if he deserved it. So when he nearly stepped on the back of Sherlock’s posh shoes due to their unusual gaits John swallowed the mean comment he was going to say and just exhaled sharply through his nose, trying for a kinder approach. 

“Sherlock, could you maybe pick up the pace a bit? Or maybe move so I can get around you?”

Sherlock didn’t seem to really hear him, only answering with a noncommittal hum and continued his snail’s pace and texting. Rather than bark complaints at a clearly exhausted Sherlock, John decided to walk around him and get a cab for them both before the detective collapsed. 

It had been raining for days, still misting even as they walked, and so the ground was slippery. There was a rock hidden in the dark carpet of the lawn. John’s foot caught the traitorous rock and he went down fast. Flailing wildly, as one often does when falling, John reached out for the thing closest to him in attempt to stop his inevitable tumble into the grass. 

Unfortunately, that meant Sherlock’s coat. 

With two undignified yelps of terror and surprise the two men went down. Hard. John was the luckier of the two, landing in the soft wet grass. Sherlock, having been on the sidewalk landed on his side, hip on the pavement and head and shoulders on the grass. They both groaned as they hit the ground; John out of embarrassment and Sherlock out of pain.

“What the hell, John,” Sherlock groused, almost whining and rubbing his hip. He rolled onto his knees and glared at John. 

“Sorry,” John rose to his knees, never minding how soggy his knees were getting. He reached out to Sherlock to inspect his hip, “here let me.”

“It’s fine, John!” He groaned, snatching his phone up before rising to his feet. 

“I just slipped! I didn’t mean to take you down with me!”

“Well, you did,” Sherlock snapped. He gestured to his sopping legs and said, “look at the state of my trousers!”

“I’ll pay the damn dry cleaners’ bill, alright? I’m sorry,” he said back just as angrily. Then he softened, seeing Sherlock’s pain and exhaustion written all over his face and asked softer than before, “are you okay?”

Sherlock pouted and said, “my hip hurts. I want a bath.”

John nodded, “let’s get you home, then. I’ll make you a cuppa, too.” He took the arm Sherlock wasn’t using to rub his hip and steered him towards the street.

“With the biscuits that I like?,” Sherlock asked hopefully.

John smiled and raised his arm for a cab. “I think I can scare a few up.”


End file.
